My Heroes Have Always Been Cowboys
by RebelxMusic
Summary: And they still are, it seems.  Unapologetic America x Germany for absolutely no reason.


**Disclaimer: **Not mine. The End.

**A/N:**I...really don't have an excuse for this. I was at the bar one night, and muses just started talking. Alfred wanted to do things, and make Germany do things with him. Germany protested, but it never does him any good. This was born from all that. You reap the benefits. Enjoy.

Bull Ridin' Music:

Rank Rider's Anthem - Luke Kaufman.

Crunk music:

Wop - J Dash.

Wobble Wobble - VIC. (And the dance that goes with it is quite fun!)

Give Me Everything - Pitbull, Ne-Yo, Nayer, Afrojack.

* * *

><p><em><span>My Heroes Have Always Been Cowboys (Or Cake, Cowboys and a Mechanical Bull)<span>_

" Vhat am I doing here...?"

Ludwig Beilschmidt held his face in one hand as he tried to ignore the oppressive bass of the nightclub he had allowed Alfred Jones to drag him off to. He felt under-dressed in the black leather pants and plain white (but still rather...tight) shirt the American had insisted he wear. No hat, no jacket, no obvious military markings. Just his iron cross. While Alfred was still allowed his bomber jacket with his jeans and brown shirt. So far so good though. No one was invading his personal space too much. Alfred said he gave off an aura of "don't fuck with me" when he was walking around. That probably had something to do with it.

Alfred took a long drink of his beer, then set the bottle back down on the bar top. " Not having fun, which I am beginning to take great offense to, as this is one of my favorite bars." His arms opened to make a sweeping gesture of the place.

It wasn't the biggest club Ludwig had ever seen. But it was certainly...unique. A sunken down dance floor was the second thing he noticed. (The rattling bass speakers were the first.) The rest of the area was built around that like a wooden deck, only inside. A bar on every side that faced the dance floor. Somewhere to the front was a DJ, but he was stationed behind all the lights. It wasn't worth blinding himself to try and see what kind of person would subject _everyone_ to those songs.

The only thing that did pique his interest somewhat was the curious placement of a mechanical bovine taking up at least half of the dance floor. Ludwig didn't off-hand understand the appeal of getting onto a ride while intoxicated, just to be thrown off. This was fun? Americans were so strange sometimes...

But still, that was no excuse for being a rude guest. He abruptly sat up a little straighter and opened his mouth to apologize for such behavior. But a gloved hand came over his mouth before he could get the words out.

" Oh no you don't. I know what you're about to say, so don't say it." Then that hand was moved from his mouth to cup the guilty looking German's cheek and keep his eyes on him. " You don't have to apologize, babe. You work too hard. You need to relax."

Ludwig sighed and leaned into that hand. " I am relaxed..."

" You're relaxed?" Alfred let out a short laugh. " You're about as relaxed as a suspension bridge. I could let traffic in and out of San Francisco across your shoulders in a wind storm."

The German crinkled his nose at such a comparison. Then visibly tried to relax his shoulders.

Alfred chuckled and bumped their noses together. " Why don't you drink something?"

Blue eyes looked to him, then to the beer in his hand, at the bar, then away distractedly. " No thank you."

At this, the American frowned, then followed the path his eyes had taken. From him, to the beer, then to the bar, and now he was trying to avoid looking at anythin–...

Oh.

OH!

_Duh._

" Ah shit," Alfred grunted in a bit of annoyance. He blatantly ignored the questioning look on the German's face as he emptied what was left of his beer. He then looked at the bottle as if it had personally slighted him with its presence. " What was I thinking, you can't drink this." He didn't even look when he tossed the bottle into the large garbage can near the end of the bar and went to stand.

In doing so, this put him almost right up against Ludwig, who was seated next to him. Feeling as if the shift in the American's mood was his fault, he turned slightly to try and make amends. " I-It's nothing against your bee –Ach! _Alfred_!"

This apology too was cut off at the pass. The hand that Alfred wasn't using to get the bartender's attention grabbed a handful of leather clad ass. It was enough to startle Ludwig right out of his apology mode and into his embarrassed one. Even through the smoke and lights of the bar, Alfred could still see the red tint to his cheeks. He regretted nothing.

" Don't worry, baby," he nosed into the blond hair under his cheek and lowered his tone to make sure he interrupted the reprimand the very proper German was about to unload on him. " Daddy's gonna make it all better. By the end of the night, I'm gonna have you so fucked up."

Now it was easy to see that blush, even without being as close as he was.

Ludwig sulked into silence, arms folded as he tried to pretend that what had just happened didn't just happen. As such, he missed the short conversation the American had with the bartender. In doing so, he had no idea what the deceptively innocent-looking clear liquid was when it was sat in front of him. Just that he was intended to drink it, if the grin and matching glass Alfred had was any indication.

This was probably a bad idea. " Vhat is it?"

" Don't think about it, just drink it." Alfred held his shot out in front of him, waiting patiently for his German companion to do the same. " Trust me, I'm the hero. I wouldn't give you something terrible in my own house. Now, you ready?"

Well, it would be rude to deny a drink. And it was just one. It probably wouldn't kill him with taste. So Ludwig took up the glass and copied him. " Ja, ja."

With a quick shout of go, he tossed back the liquid and waited for it. He was expecting 'it' to be terrible taste, or terrible quality. But 'it' never came. What he did taste was deliciously sweet across his tongue and burned pleasantly on its way down.

It must have shown on his face, since Alfred was smiling smugly at him. " You liked that, didn't you?"

" I must admit, it vas really good." He thought nothing of licking the inside of the glass to make sure there was nothing left. It wasn't until he was done that he realized Alfred was staring at him. At first he thought he might have done something wrong. " V-Vhat is it?"

" You're so hot when you do that," the American said bluntly. Before he was allowed to be flustered once again, Alfred went on. " As for what it is, it's what you're drinking for the rest of the night." He didn't wait to be argued with. He just summoned the bartender over and gestured to the burning red blond at his side. " Don't let his glass stay empty. I got it."

" Alfred!" He really must protest. First the clothes, then the cover, now the alcohol? The American knew he had a high tolerance, that could get expensive! Especially drinking straight alcohol. " I can pay for my own drinks!"

" Of course you can, baby." Alfred wasn't even looking at him; having turned around to face the rest of the bar. His eyes were on the mechanical bull bucking up quite a frenzy to the cheers of the crowd. " But you're not going to here."

Ludwig started to argue further. But he realized while Alfred was listening, his attention was firmly placed somewhere else. He followed his gaze to the man riding the bull at the center of everyone's attention. This was no drunkard. This was someone who knew what they were doing.

Now he looked back to the American. Ludwig recognized that look. That was the same kind of look his brother often got. That man on the bull, whoever he was, had issued a direct challenge to Alfred in his audacity to try and be better than him at something. A challenge that his American companion was not likely to let go unanswered. Not in "his house."

When his replacement shot was placed on the bar between them, Alfred got to it first. Eyes still on the "challenger" now dismounting to the roar of his newly won fans, he threw it back Then held out the empty glass to him. " You will excuse me for a second, won't you?"

Ludwig just took the glass from him, not bothering to excuse the American. He was already walking away anyway. At least this was something he could do without getting hurt. The mechanical bull looked like it had more than enough padding on all sides to prevent injury.

He could see Alfred work his way through the mass of bodies to get to the bull. He couldn't hear what was being said as he signed his name on the rider's list and the "challenger" spoke to him. But he could read lips.

_Hey Tex. You gonna ride with those glasses on? _

_ Absolutely. I'd ride worse without'em._

Ludwig snorted and placed the empty shot glass down to his side. It was filled when he reached for it again.

_I don't know, man. Old dude running the machine is pretty merciless tonight. Someone who didn't know what they were doing might just make a real ass out of himself._

No amount of smoke could cloud that blazing grin Alfred had on his face.

_I bet you tabs I can stay on that thing for fifteen seconds. _

Ludwig nearly choked on his shot.

_Tabs? Sure. You don't look like much of a drinker. _The man grinned and slung his arm around a pretty blonde female. _Me and my friends here, got a pretty hefty tab going though. _

He should have expected something like that. It wasn't enough to just best the man for challenging him in such a way. He had to be punished. His arrogant insinuation that Alfred didn't know what he was doing, and worse, was going to fail before he even tried was the last nail in the coffin.

Alfred was going to destroy him.

_Sweet._ The American turned to climb into the padded ring without another thought.

Ludwig looked down at his...well, he hadn't been paying attention to what number shot this was. Judging by the warm, buzzy feeling in his limbs, he was well past six. Not yet to fifteen. Some part of him tried to feel guilty and stop drinking right then and there. He'd never seen Alfred ride a bull. If he couldn't do it, then that was just more money he'd have to pay. Or if he won, then that man would be forced to foot the bill he was creating.

But the rest of him, likely influenced by the alcohol, told his arm to move that shot up to his mouth and drink it. This sweet alcohol was being set in front of him in open offering. By nature, Alfred didn't do anything he didn't want to do. He intended for him to drink. Ludwig did nothing to deserve any guilt. That man agreed to the terms Alfred plainly presented. He just assumed Alfred wasn't drinking much and assumed he couldn't ride as well.

Talk about making an ass of yourself.

Ludwig was drawn away from his musings by movement. Alfred was on the bull now, one hand holding on, the other waving in the air to him. He knew he couldn't be heard. But the American also knew that the other was looking on.

_Watch me._ He mouthed with a wink.

And then the bull came to life.

Ludwig watched dutifully. It looked easy enough. The bull started out slow, rocking forwards and backwards. Alfred moved with it, leaning back when it dipped forward, forward when it reared back. The German relaxed against the bar, prepared to drink through the rest of Alfred's leisure ride.

But then he heard, " CRANK IT UP!"

This was not a real animal. This was a thing. It had no feelings, it had no emotions. But to Ludwig, it looked like the bull just got pissed off. It swung around full speed and bucked hard, trying to throw Alfred off. It jerked abruptly, and was going so hard, he could almost hear the metal meeting metal from where he stood. His shot was forgotten when he heard the American shout. If he was in trouble, he could get thrown _out_ of the ring with that much power.

He needn't have worried.

Alfred was making noise all right. But not because he was in trouble. He was hooting and hollering like he was having the time of his life. All he was missing was the cowboy hat. The music had even changed to something very country just to highlight this one rider putting the bull through its paces. The crowd was on his side now, answering his whoops and shouts as well as counting the seconds down for him.

Fifteen seconds never seemed so long before. It felt like he'd been watching Alfred up there forever. Never once was he out of control of his movements. And when he finally did come down off the bull, it was with a dismount of his own power.

The man controlling the mechanical bull was laughing as he got out of the ring. He shook Alfred's hand and said something that made them both erupt in laughter. The "challenger" was still there. But the look on his face was anything but friendly.

Ludwig decided he didn't want to read what he was saying. Where did that shot get to?

* * *

><p>He didn't know how long it took him to locate that glass, but enough time had passed that someone came up behind him to put their hand on his backside. He didn't think, he just whipped around and swung.<p>

Luckily, Alfred was not yet as drunk as he was. He'd recoiled to avoid that clumsily thrown punch. " Whoa! Careful, baby, that thing's loaded!"

Guilt was refusing to mix well with the alcohol in his stomach. " You startled me. Vhy do you always touch me like zhat?"

If being swung at hurt his feelings, Alfred gave absolutely no indication of it. He slung his arm casually around the German's waist and tugged him to his side. " Because I don't want anyone else touching you like that."

Ludwig snorted and started to point out the flaws in that statement. But he was distracted by a fresh beer being slid in front of them. He was about to push it away, when the bartender nodded to Alfred, then gestured to the other end of the bar where a couple of women were practically preying on poor, unassuming Alfred.

Of course he just saw free beer.

The one of the girls got bold enough to come over. There was nothing wrong with her. She was dressed nicely enough. A ruffled red top and sensible jeans with red heels. She was pretty. She was probably a nice, intelligent American girl with a loving family and golden retriever.

Ludwig hated her immediately.

" You rode that bull really well." She smiled and touched his shoulder.

Was she just blind, or rude? Did she not see him standing there _obviously_ with Alfred's arm around him?

Alfred smiled and set his beer down. " Thanks! It wasn't easy, but it was fun!"

Poor, unassuming Alfred.

Her hand was still there. " You're not a professional?"

" Who, me? Haaa, no. I'm just a hero."

Not only was she _still_ touching him, her hand slid down his arm a little and she was taking up the stool to Alfred's right. " You could be my hero. Maybe you could teach me how to ride like that?"

Oh _hell_ no.

Whatever Alfred was about to say wasn't important. Ludwig grabbed onto that arm around him and pulled none-too-gently towards the mechanical bull. If anyone was going to learn to ride from Alfred, it was going to be him.

The American yelped, but went willingly; only turning slightly to wave at the woman. " I think I got my hands full with one student already."

" Can I be next?"

Goddamn tenacious Americans and their never giving up... " Sie können in die Hölle kommen."

The woman was completely lost. Hah. She wasn't _that_ smart after all. " What did he say?"

" Nothing!" Alfred finally turned his back fully on her and freed his captured arm. Only to sling it over his shoulders and hide an amused look against the side of the German's head. " Not nice, Ludwig, not nice...~"

" Shut up und show me how to ride zhis zhing." Ludwig commanded as he pointed at the bull. It was just sitting there innocently, like it wasn't the source of all his annoyance.

Alfred shrugged and pushed him forward into the ring first. At least he wanted to do something now. " Bounce on the pads to get up. Then scoot forward as far as you can."

Ludwig did as he was told. Alfred got on behind him, sitting close enough that they were flush together. He locked an arm around his waist securely for good measure. Suddenly, Ludwig considered how they might look. They _were_ in the middle of the bar. Alfred was the star of the night. All eyes were on them.

Maybe he could pass his blushing off as alcohol influence. " Vhat now?"

" Your hand goes under here. Hold tight." He fit his own hand, palm up, under the rope in example. " The real trick is to hang on with your legs though. Your other hand is for balance. But you don't have to worry about that yet. I won't let you fall off."

Ludwig glanced to the bar where they left the woman in red. She was still there, hovering near their drinks and watching. He scowled down at the bull and clenched his hand. " Ja, ja. Next?"

" When the bull moves forward, you lean back. When it goes back, you lean forward over your hand. I'll show you when it starts. Just stay loose up here," the arm around his waist lifted to pat his stomach, " if you tense up, you'll get thrown right the hell off. And I will have no choice but to laugh at you." This time, the American was close enough Ludwig could swing his elbow backwards and hit him right in the stomach. Alfred 'oof'd and chuckled breathlessly. " Kidding! I was just kidding!"

Ludwig huffed. " Get zhis zhing started before I zhrow _you_ off."

" You're so hot when you're pissed." Alfred got away with a quick kiss to the back of his head before he raised his hand and gestured to start.

Ludwig expected the bull to immediately start with jerking movements. But it was actually pretty fluid. Or he was just so drunk he didn't notice. It moved slowly, forward and back. Like a wave on the ocean. Or something. It wasn't as bad as he thought. Especially with Alfred sitting behind him, guiding his hips and telling him how to move. " Just like this. That's it. Yeah, move like me. You got it. You're pretty good at this. Don't tense up, relax, baby, I got you."

He would blame it on the alcohol. Or the heat of the bar, or their close proximity, or even Alfred's encouragements. Something other than him being a pervert. But Gott help him, he was getting aroused by all of this.

Ludwig was almost thankful that the bull started to go faster. At least, Alfred hadn't noticed his squirming. Maybe he could work through this with minimal embarrassment. He was glad his leg strength was what it was. It wouldn't do to be completely dependent on Alfred for staying on. He was not like these drunkard girls, giggling and flapping all over the place just for the male attention.

After a little while, Alfred was just using his arms on either side of the other nation to keep him balanced while they moved. The rest he was doing on his own." See? You're a natural! Probably all that practice from riding me!"

And that was the end of Ludwig's first mechanical bull ride.

Ludwig tensed up all over and they were both thrown to the mats. He'd rather have just sunken into the padding to disappear forever. He didn't think he could get anymore embarrassed. But Alfred wouldn't let him go. Instead, he was pulling him up and waving to all his fans as they cheered their ride.

So much for being aroused.

* * *

><p>The only good thing to come out of the whole mess was that the woman in red was nowhere to be found. It was almost worth it, just for that. Ludwig couldn't wait to get back to the bar and drink his shame away. Too bad there wasn't a kind of alcohol named Make-Me-Forget-All-That-Just-Happened.<p>

Alfred let him squeeze in to sit down first. " That's called tequila, baby."

Had he said that out loud?

" You want to close that tab out at one bottle?" The bartender was poised with his hand on the cap of a new and very full bottle of that same sweet alcohol.

Ludwig thought of the unfortunate man that was going to foot their bill for all of three seconds. Whatever he looked like while he did that must have amused Alfred to no end. " The look on his face is somewhere between 'hell' and 'no'. Keep it coming."

Ludwig was content now to remain where they were for the rest of the night; drinking and listening to Alfred talk. The sweet alcohol (vodka of some kind, he was pretty sure, although Alfred still wouldn't let him see the bottle) washed away his lingering humiliation to the point he could relax again.

Then that oppressive bass bumping music was back.

And worse, Alfred was moving to it while hanging onto him. Which meant he was moving to it by proxy. " How can you dance to zhis?"

" Huh? What do you mean?" Alfred looked at him like he'd just spoken German backwards. Then he must have had a thought. " Ohhhh, you're just not feeling it yet, babe."

" How can I not? I can feel zhis...'music'," and he used the term loosely, "in mein chest!"

" No, no," Alfred leaned back, almost too far, then righted himself. " I mean you don't _feel_ it. Like when we were on the bull. You had it then. C'mon, I'll show you."

" V-Vas? But I didn't mean–" Too late. Alfred was the one that had him by the arm this time. He was being pulled to the dance floor whether he liked it or not. " Alfred, I can't dance!" 'to any of this so called music' was the rest of that sentence he didn't say. He had to listen to find rhythm. And it was hard for him to stay balanced when he was bombarded with crude lyrics that cursed you out every other word.

" Yeah, you can." The way the American said it so matter-of-factly, he almost believed it himself. He pulled on his arm to bring their bodies together; his back to Alfred's front. His arms were around his waist again, guiding his movements. Just like he did on the bull. Then, just like now, he wasn't going to let him fail.

_" I paid to get in, so I ain't fin'ta chill, and my week's been way too long to stand still!"_

All right, so it wasn't as difficult as he made it out to be. Ludwig didn't want to make a fool of himself floundering to music he couldn't get a hold of. Thankfully, Alfred simply let him catch hold to the beat rocking side to side on a corner of the dance floor. He allowed the American to move his body in accordance to the pulsating bass; keeping him afloat in a sea of bodies.

The words were still dumb though. Who could spend so much time talking about a person's ass and moving it? (If he had stopped to think about it, he probably would have noticed how much he was moving his own. But conveniently enough, he was well past thinking at this point.)

When the song changed (thankfully), he expected Alfred to start rocking with him again. But instead, he backed them up a little bit until they were completely off the dance floor. This confused Ludwig quite a bit. As the sound of drums pounded through the whole bar, people who hadn't come near the dance floor all night were coming to it and lining up. " You don't vant to dance anymore?"

Alfred leisurely locked his arms around his hips. " I do. But this is a line dance. There's like...rules to how you do it. Only certain moves, it just keeps repeating," he shook his head, "I'm sure you wouldn't be interested in it."

Rules? A dance with rules? That was something he could actually do! " Vhat is zhat? Sarcasm? Zhat's probably zhe only kind of dance I can do!"

" Oh yeah?" He was grinning now. In that irritating "I-know-something-you-don't-but-you're-so-cute-I'm-not-going-to-tell-you-yet" way. He hated it when Gilbert did that, but even more when Alfred did it. " You think you got those steps already?"

He caught himself right before he impulsively confirmed this. His drunken mind almost got him in trouble. But no. He had to focus. Focus! This was just like learning a fighting maneuver from his brother. He had to watch first and get all the movements. Thankfully this dance didn't look all that complicated. A lot of 'wobbling' so the lyrics said. Jumping forward, then backward. Left, right. Right foot, left foot. Then a side move that caught him off guard, he had to watch two revolutions of it before he understood how to do it. " Ja, I got it now. But zhe song is almost over."

" Not a problem." Alfred planted a hard kiss to the side of his head and disengaged. He swaggered over to where the DJ was overshadowed and seemed to be having a short conversation. Ludwig couldn't lip read from this far away. All he caught was the American pointing in his direction and the DJ looking. Whatever Alfred was telling him though, it had something to do with him.

Was this a good or a bad thing?

The DJ gave him a thumbs up gesture and then Alfred was coming back, grinning like a thief and oh god what did that mean?

" One more time!" The voice of the DJ came through the speakers all around. And the song started over.

Oh. Awesome. Except not really, because now he had to actually do it.

Once they were lined up with the other people on the floor, Ludwig nearly let himself back out. He felt stupid. Drunk, but still stupid. He didn't like dancing because it usually made him feel stupid. So why was he doing this now? Just because the American said he couldn't? He wanted to think himself better than that. But he couldn't get his pride past that knot of challenge.

Oh what the hell, he just went for it.

* * *

><p><em>" Wobble, baby! Wobble, baby! Wobble, baby, wobble!"<em>

Ludwig decided he liked line dancing a lot better than rocking or regular dancing. This was easy. Especially with everyone around him (more or less due to different stages of drunkenness) doing the same thing as him. This was actually kind of fun. He was starting to enjoy it so much, he forgot about Alfred being behind him somewhere. The dance didn't change except for directions one faced when they did it. He had mastered the beast, it seemed. So comfortable was he now, the blond started streamlining the process; adding in his own moves where he saw fit.

Ludwig was having quite the productive night, he thought. He'd discovered some wonderful sweet vodka, learned to ride a mechanical bull, and now he was dancing on his own without his hero.

...his hero? Did he really just think that? Hell, he _was_ drunk.

It didn't even matter what the next song was. He had to keep moving or else he'd keep thinking embarrassing things like that. 'His hero' indeed...

_ "Grab somebody sexy, tell'em hey..!"_

In hindsight,Ludwig supposed that was as good a queue as any for someone like Alfred. A familiar arm was wrapped around him, drawing him back once more. He was not content to just rock anymore. Now he knew what he was doing. (Or his drunk self did, at least.) He wanted to dance like the other people were doing. He could move like that too. He would just have to show Alfred.

" Excuse me...~" Or, he would have if he wasn't so suddenly distracted by the low and breathy singing in his ear, " And I might drink a little more than I should...tonight.~" And lips grazing that ear, his jaw, his neck... " And I might take you home with me if I could tonight. And baby, I'mma make you feel so good...tonight.~" That sounded like a promise, sealed with a squeeze on his hip. " Cause we might not get tomorrow..."

It seemed Alfred had indeed noticed his adaptation to dancing after all. Logically, there was no way that anyone except him could hear what the other nation was saying. Truthfully, the American was being more discreet than some of the other couples on the floor; damn near rutting where they stood. But he still felt embarrassed as if everyone could hear what he could. As if everyone could _feel_ what he could. " Alfred...!"

" Just keep moving like that." His command was husky, causing a shiver to run down his spine. He did as he was told despite his earlier protesting. Had he really made the American Hero sound like _that_? " Goddamn, you're so hot like this. You just don't know. Wait 'til I get you back home. You're going to dance for me again. You won't walk right for a week, I swear. Every flat surface in that building...my desk, my table, the shower, my couch..."

It was so improper and embarrassing and impolite and just fucking _dirty_, but in the face of all those filthy promises, Ludwig decided that he had relaxed enough at this bar. It was time to relax at home. Possibly near Alfred's desk, table, shower, and couch...

* * *

><p><span>Notes<span>

Just in case you were wondering, the alcohol Ludwig and Alfred were drinking was Pinnacle Cake vodka. Which is made in _France_. Which was why Alfred refused to let Ludwig see the bottle. It's also _very_ amazing.


End file.
